There are so many things I fear.
Hurting him.
Him hurting me.
Him going back to his ex-girlfriend - don't think I could do that one again.
My becoming uninterested.
His becoming uninterested.
His sudden realization that I'm hideous.
Getting accidentally pregnant.
Me meeting someone else that is it for me, and me having to leave him.
Me not meeting someone else, and still having to leave him.
Him leaving me because I can't commit.

I check my reflection often. Like my photographs, like my fear, I have to know that I'm still here, that I'm ok. I'm afraid that one day I'll look and see a haggard, lonely, bitter old woman who couldn't let go and couldn't get over her own petty bullshit because she didn't get what she wanted.

There are so many things I need, and I don't go for them. I can lose weight. I know how to do it. I want to do it. So why can't I do it? What's stopping me? I want to keep this place from being an eating disorder venue, because that is not who I am, but it comes to my attention that I have at least two. At least.

I'm so tired of fighting with myself.

"Lay em down, Sethe. Sword and shield. Down. Down. Both of em down. Down by the riverside. Sword and Shield. Don't study war no more. Lay all that mess down. Sword and shield." Toni Morrison, "Beloved"

I never tire of that. I never do. I cried the first time I read it. I cried in the film, that awful film. I cried the second time I read it. And now, third times the charm, I cried the hardest. It's so hard to lay those down. I fear that if I lay down my battle weapons, my armour, that I will let myself go. That I will no longer be vigilant, and I will gain 100 pounds. That will not make me happy, my vigilance will have been the one thing that kept me from sinking completely. But it's exhausting, and I'm short of energy, of drive to keep on. Whip me. Kick me from behind, make me move forward, just don't let me stay here and do nothing while all the things I dreamed of leave without me.

Battle scars are so hard to get rid of.